‘He’s not himself’, Mum says in the kitchen. Well, who is he then? Is he 40 per cent of his young self? Ten? Do I still have to love him as much as ever, this 90 per cent stranger?
She had already imagined it all, so much so that when she finally did see him, she felt unable to speak.
The Buzzard’s Egg
‘I can’t remember: did a young man destroy his miserable god, or did a god free its worshipper and take his blood and his bones?’